


Who, Who Are You Really?

by GrammiaArge



Series: Seeing Double [2]
Category: Danny Phantom
Genre: Darrock is feral, Desiree doesn’t like the Fae, Gen, Gratuitous use of italics, Swearing, Warning: Penelope Spectra
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:53:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27326116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrammiaArge/pseuds/GrammiaArge
Summary: Darrock and Danny get mixed up a lot.(AKA some ghosts discover that Darrock exists)
Series: Seeing Double [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1995061
Kudos: 31





	Who, Who Are You Really?

Skulker is a hunter. Studious, intelligent, thorough, well–prepared… no, not _just_ a hunter—a _collector_ , of all things rare and strange, living or otherwise. 

Danny Phantom is one of those rare and strange things he wants to collect. 

He swings wildly from wanting the boy flayed and gutted to put at the end of his bed like a rug, or wanting to keep the boy locked up in a cage like a pretty song bird—his own personal zoo, with the Halfa boy as the main attraction. Today, he’s decided that he wants the boy in a cage. Because why hold something so fierce, if not to show off it’s teeth? It’s growl, it’s bark, it’s snarl? 

But the boy that kneels before him, arms cuffed behind his back, baring his too sharp teeth and glaring at him with too blue eyes is _not_ what he expected. 

“You’re… not the halfa,” skulker says dumbly. The boy sneers at him and it’s—it’s _meaner_ than Phantoms usual sneer, it has more bite to it. Phantom mocks, he jeers and he taunts, but this boy? This boy looks like he’d tear out Skulkers throat with little care for the metal that surrounds it. With his _teeth_. 

“Congrats! You have a pair of working fucking eyes, would you perhaps like a bloody medal?” The boy cocks his head at him, black hair seeming to float up in his ire. “Or maybe I could tear them out for you and put them in through your ass, or is your head too far up there already for that to work?”

“ _Who_ _are_ _you_?” Skulker snarls, kicking the edge of the silver bars. The feral boy stares at him—and it hits Skulker that he looks _so_ _much_ like the Phantom boy’s human form that it’s _scary_. It’s like someone took the halfa and made an almost copy, but they somehow made him _wrong_. _Different_. He shouldn’t be creeped out—he’s a ghost, he’s dead, he shouldn’t be unsettled by a growling _whelp_ —but this boy raises hairs on the back of his neck that don’t exist anymore. If he had skin, it would be prickling with goosebumps. 

“Who are _you_?” The boy bites back, shuffling forward as far as he can with his hands cuffed behind his back. “Attacking Danny at every hour of the day—while he’s in school, while he’s eating, while he’s trying to sleep—you’d think you had a _death wish_ acting that sort of way.” The boy stops, before barking out a sharp laugh at his own joke. “Ha! _Death_ _wish_. Gods, I’m great.”

“What _are_ you?” The ferocious protectiveness of Phantom that this boy exudes is not comforting. There are puzzle pieces forming in Skulker’s mind, and he doesn’t like the picture it makes. 

“Oh _please_ ,” the boy drawls mockingly, his sharp blue eyes facing away from the hunter. “You’re a hunter—a collector of all things weird and unnatural. Surely _you_ know.” 

Skulker just frowns and ignores the boy, electing to cover the cage with a blanket and leave the room. He knows the cage won’t hold him for long, but he’s sure the boy won’t leave _too_ much of a mess when he leaves. Quite frankly, he doesn’t want the whelp here any longer. 

As he makes his way back to the lounge, Skulker thinks back to his living days, to the other types of hunters he had known. The ones who traded lead and brass bullets for silver and salt, ones who spoke in hushed tones and occult languages and crossbow bolts to the heart. Ones who spoke of creatures who stole children in the night and left their own young in their place. 

‘Meaner than their human counterparts,,’ his mind quotes an aged book he’d read shortly before he died. ‘Sharper features. Can almost appear human at first glance. Form deep bonds with the children they replace, like having an identical twin.’

Skulker ignores the crashes from the other room down the hall, ignores the feral snarls and sounds of glass breaking as the boy flees into the abyss. The whelp no doubt has his little ragtag group of friends tearing apart half the ghost zone looking for him. 

For a brief moment, Skulker wonders if the halfa boy is looking for him as well. 

“Well,” he chuckles to himself, breathless and mildly mortified. “At least I’ll know to use iron next time.”  
  


—————

Desiree has experience in the Fae world that she really, _really_ , wishes she didn’t have. Ironically enough. 

You see, _technically_ , she is not a ghost. Ghosts can’t grant wishes of her caliber, ghosts can’t grant wishes capable of changing _fate_ _itself_. She’s some sort of spirit—similar, but a hell of a lot more powerful, although nobody is truly sure what she truly belongs to. She’s heard the term _‘Jinn’_ or _‘Genie’_ be thrown around quite a lot. But given her experiences with the Fae are annoying at best and down right _deadly_ at worst, she elected to _pretend_ she was a ghost and _stay the fuck away from those creeps_. 

Her experience with the Fae is what clues her in to the Halfas little _secret_. 

The day started out simple, really. She’d gotten out of the ghost zone because some idiot kids had summoned her, she’d messed with their minds a little and then decided she wanted to mess with her favourite Phantom. Except, he was busy. 

With one of _Them_. 

It’s night time, and the pair are dancing around each other in a battle that seemed a little too light hearted to be real. The Halfa boy is in his ghost form, dodging flying knives and even shooting random bursts of bright green energy at the ‘attacker’. They never hit, of course, but the other would whoop in joy and praise Phantom for being able to do it in the first place, like he was a child throwing a football around instead of a _half dead boy_ playing with a _fairy_. 

“Alright, I think that’s enough to tonight,” the woman speaks in a thick Irish accent. “But those lil sparks o’ yours sure are improvin’. Maybe you’ll be able to hit a target soon.” Her tone is familial, _teasing_. It sets Desiree on edge, because she _really_ doesn’t like the implications of the _Halfa_ _boy_ , the Ghost Zones _current_ _favourite_ _punching_ bag, having an alliance with a _Fairy_. The red headed fairy ruffles the Halfas hair, and the boy giggles. “Just wish the other Halfa wasn’t a complete _wanker_ , figure it’d be easier to train you if we knew half of what the fuck you actually are.”

Phantom just shrugs at her with a big grin on his face, and Desiree watches as he picks up his school bag from a tree that sits a _little_ too close to the building she’s stalking him from for her personal comfort. Luckily for her sanity, though, his ghost sense doesn’t go off, meaning she’s _just_ far enough away to avoid it. 

“Can you tell Darrock that it’s his turn tomorrow? I have an English test that I haven’t studied for and I can’t be bothered doing it.” Phantom slings the backpack over his shoulder and shoots a pleading look to his fairy mentor. Desiree can practically _feel_ herself melt into a puddle of fear and misery, because she really, _really_ doesn’t like that sentence. So many implications to think about… 

“Sure thing, kiddo.” The fairy gives a sloppy wink and a thumbs up. “Watch your back on the way home, don’t want none o’ them spooks creepin up on you, now, do we?” The fairy tosses a cold, knowing glance in Desiree's direction, and the ghost feels her insides _freeze_ . Of course she couldn’t hide from a fucking _fairy_.

Gods… she hasn’t felt terror like this in _centuries_ … 

She goes back to the Ghost Zone that night mulling over the awful implications of the _Halfa_ having a _Fairy_ _mentor_. 

The part about the ‘Darrock’ kid sends her straight to the bar, because if what Skulker had said when he was drunk the last time—about the Phantom lookalike who was a _little_ _too_ _feral_ to be the Halfa they all know and hate—had _any_ connection to that, then… _well…_

Desiree really, _really_ does not like dealing with the Fae. 

——— 

Spectra often hates having chosen _psychology_ as a career when she was alive. 

It _seemed_ like a good choice at first, because she wanted to be a doctor _so_ _badly_ so she could help people, but she couldn’t exactly study to be a doctor, so she went into psychiatry. 

Surprise! It fucking sucked. 

Thinking back to it now, Penelope isn’t surprised that she got killed by her own patient. All the horror stories of old psychiatric hospitals from the 50s and earlier are mostly true, conditions were awful and she’s not ashamed to admit that she contributed to said awful conditions. What can she say? She grew to find the misery _entertaining_. 

The Halfa, even more so. 

Oh, his misery! The _depression_ ! It’s _completely_ different to anything she’s ever encountered, and it’s _exhilarating_ . _Normal_ teens worry about a test or popularity or if their crush likes them, but this boy? He worries about if he’ll survive to the next week, if he can keep his secret identity under wraps, if he can be a good _hero_. 

His misery tastes like nothing she’s ever tasted before… it’s _brilliant_ . His sister may have been the epitome of sunshine and happiness but _he_ certainly was not. 

“Oh, Daniel! It’s so nice to see you again!” She cheers with a false tone when a familiar mop of black hair walks into her office. Her smile is wide and all teeth as she thinks about how she’s going to _break_ this boy even more. She’s already gotten to his friends, it’s just a matter of time before she gets to the sister as well. 

“Cut the shit,” the boy growls. His eyes glow—but they glow _ice_ _blue_ , not acid green, and that’s the first warning Spectra gets that something is _wrong_. 

“I beg your pardon?” She sputters indignantly, partly offended by the boys callousness and worried because those rumors she’s heard circling the ghost zone are now stuck in her head and she _desperately_ hopes that they’re not true. 

“I know what you are. I know you’re a ghost.” The Daniel lookalike slams his hands on the table and bares his fangs at her with an animalistic snarl. “Stay the fuck away from my school, stay the fuck away from friends, and stay the _fuck_ away from my siblings.” _Siblings_. _Plural_. 

‘Oh.’ Spectra thinks. _‘OH_.’

Spectra’s mouth curls into a malicious grin. She has dealt with a changeling in the past—one who’s human part had _died_ —and the misery it exuded was… _addictive_ . Spectra practically _salivates_ at the thought. 

“Well _well_ ! What do you know, the Halfa freak has an even _bigger_ freak for a brother,” she chirps. The boys pointed ears twitch downwards. “Tell me, do young Fenton's parents know that they house a creature they claim to hunt?” 

“The Fenton’s don’t hunt changelings, they hunt ghosts.” The hidden ‘they don’t even know fairies exist’ does not go unnoticed by Spectra, who’s grin grows impossibly wide. 

“Hmm, how interesting.” She rubs her chin in thought. “Now—do you withhold this information from them because you know that they’ll hurt you? Or are you simply terrified that they won’t accept you? After all…” she leans in close to the boy, who stands stiff as a board. “You’re not their true son.”

“Shut up!” He shouts, shoving her away. “Just stay away from my family! Leave this school alone, leave my brother alone!” He turns on tail and stomps to the door, misery and fear radiating off him in waves. The smell makes Spectra hum in delight. 

“Say what you will darling, about the Fenton boy being your brother, the Fentons being your parents…” the boy slams the door shut before she has the chance to finish. 

“We all know the truth about _that_.”

**Author's Note:**

> Look idk what Desiree is but she seems a lil powerful for a normal ghost don’t y’all think ??
> 
> Also I feel like skulker probably would’ve either been a monster hunter when he was alive or at least known monster hunters. He just has those vibes yannow?


End file.
